Harry Potter: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me from Studying

Wade was unaware that Professor Morrie, after only a single encounter, had placed such high hopes on him. He was simply delighted that his self-taught alchemy, which felt like fumbling in the dark, could finally receive professional guidance.

Upon returning to the Great Hall, the four long tables were empty. Only a few students who had overslept were leisurely eating breakfast. Today was Sunday, so most students wouldn't be up early, and breakfast hours were extended by half an hour.

Wade grabbed two sandwiches and saw West Mall, a sixth-year Ravenclaw prefect, at the end of the long table. He walked over and sat beside him. "Good morning, West."

"Morning, Wade," West said lazily. "Rare to see you sleep in."

Wade leaned forward, closer. "West, do you know who the school's Alchemy professor is?"

"Of course, it's Professor Terence Morrie," West said. "I'm taking his advanced class this year—why do you ask?"

"Because I'm very interested in alchemy, so I wanted to learn about it beforehand." Wade didn't mention his early morning encounter. Instead, he asked, "Which one is Professor Morrie? I don't recall anyone mentioning him when I started school."

"Well, of course not. Professor Morrie usually isn't at school. You wouldn't see him at the Sorting Ceremony or the Halloween feast," West said matter-of-factly. "He's a renowned alchemist, supposedly second only to Nicolas Flamel. Of course, everyone agrees Nicolas Flamel is the greatest alchemist of our time, and there are at least five or six people called 'the next Nicolas Flamel.' But Professor Morrie isn't someone who seeks fame; he genuinely has substance."

West suddenly leaned in closer, lowering his voice and saying with longing, "Did you know? Professor Morrie even has shares in Nimbus Racing Broom Company and the Wizarding Wireless Network. He's a close acquaintance of the famous singer Celestina Warbeck and collaborates with various Ministries of Magic, having participated in at least three Ministry renovation projects. This past Halloween, he was in France attending the Carcassonne Alchemical Symposium—only the top alchemists receive invitations."

"So, a busy man like him—" West returned to his normal volume, "—it's already great that he sets aside time to teach us every week. He can't possibly live at school like other professors, and he rarely comes to the Great Hall for meals. But starting to learn alchemy now is a very wise choice. You'll surely make a splash when you formally study under Professor Morrie in sixth year. Maybe he'll even take you on as a true apprentice, and you'll climb straight to the top!"

"Climb to the top of what?" West's friend, Benson, suddenly spoke up. He appeared from nowhere, his hair messy, his face even having unwashed toothpaste foam. He casually grabbed a pasty from the table, and without waiting for West's reply, he urged, "Let's go, we'll miss the good spots if we're late."

"Wait!" West took out his wand and cast Scourgify on him, then said, "What's the hurry? The Gryffindor and Slytherin match doesn't start for another half hour! And they'll be flying in the air, so where you sit doesn't matter, does it?"

"How can it not matter? If only the spots behind the pillars are left, we won't see the exciting moments! And I don't want to sit with the Slytherins either..." Benson grumbled, dragging West quickly towards the pitch.

West turned back and called out, "Then Wade, you'd better hurry too—"

Before he finished speaking, he was pulled out of the Great Hall.

Wade then realized that the reason there were so few people in the Great Hall wasn't because many students were sleeping in, but because most had gone to the Quidditch pitch. He had been through so much since last night that he had completely forgotten the first Quidditch match was today.

After Benson rushed West away, the few remaining students in the Great Hall also seemed to realize the urgency of time, and they rushed out. Wade drank a cup of hot water that had appeared out of nowhere before him, then headed towards the Quidditch pitch.

Almost all the students in the school were there. Many held binoculars to get a clearer view of the match. The stands were packed, with seats rising in tiers into the air. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students mingled with Gryffindors, while the Slytherins formed their own separate group.

In the highest row, Gryffindor students had hung a giant banner with "Potter for President" (literally "Potter will win") letters flashing in different colors, and someone had drawn a vivid lion on it.

The players from both teams streamed out of the changing rooms. Students throughout the stadium cheered and applauded; though only a few hundred strong, they roared with the intensity of a ten-thousand-person stadium. The players, like NBA stars, received encouragement and cheers from their respective houses.

Wade first ascended to the highest tier of the stands and quickly spotted his target—the few professors watching the match likely didn't want to squeeze in with the students and were clustered in the same area. Professor Snape, especially, with his black raven-like robes, was easy to find.

So Wade soon saw Quirrell—he was very close to Professor Snape, his head wrapped in a large turban, staring intently at Harry Potter, who was mounted on his broom. A flush spread across Quirrell's pale face, as if he too were caught up in the excited atmosphere.

As Madam Hooch's whistle blew, both teams' players swiftly flew into the sky, becoming tiny black dots in a blink. Students in the stands almost instinctively stood up, craning their necks upwards, trying to distinguish the players, and occasionally gasping as the battle unfolded.

Wade painstakingly pushed through the crowd, listening to Gryffindor student Lee Jordan's passionate commentary: "Flint didn't score! Gryffindor's Keeper, Wood, made a brilliant save—"

As the two teams' players attacked and defended, Wade had already squeezed near the professors' section of the stands. Then, hidden by the students on either side, he subtly extended his wand, flicking and shaking it quickly!

Quirrell was applauding a Gryffindor goal, smiling with the professors next to him, completely ignoring Snape's black face not far away.

Just as he was secretly preparing to cast a spell on Harry Potter's broom, his body suddenly lunged forward, tumbling uncontrollably down the stands, even knocking over several students.

It looked completely as if Professor Quirrell, too excited while watching the match, had accidentally fallen.

Everyone scrambled to help them up, and they saw Quirrell clutching his nose, two streams of blood running down.

"Are you alright, Professor Quirrell?" Professor Sprout asked with concern.

At the same time, Lee Jordan's ecstatic voice boomed—

"Harry Potter caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins one hundred seventy to twenty! What a magnificent victory! The great Harry Potter! In his first match as Seeker, he defeated the Slytherin team!"

Quirrell, his face covered in blood, snapped his head around, staring blankly at the celebrating Gryffindor team, completely forgetting to hide his suddenly ashen face. Fortunately, everyone else was cheering and celebrating, so almost no one noticed his change in expression.

"Almost," because Professor Snape, also pale with anger, was glaring at him darkly.

And behind Quirrell, several human walls away, Wade quietly retracted his wand. He took one last look at Quirrell, then blended in with the excited students and returned to the castle.